


If you give a Jack a hoody..

by Piff



Series: Bye Bye Birdy [3]
Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Gen, Parent-Child Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-10
Updated: 2014-01-10
Packaged: 2018-01-08 05:10:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1128717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Piff/pseuds/Piff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You must be prepared to forcibly remove said hoody to get it washed. Jack is such a toddler. Pitch just wants him clean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If you give a Jack a hoody..

**Author's Note:**

> It was a really funny image in my head Pitch scrubbing a filthy Jack with a big brush and lots of soap. So I tried to put it in words. I think it worked.

Jack squalled like a toddler as Pitch manhandled the slimy fabric over his head, pinning the boy under one arm in a headlock and holding the dirty hoody out to one of his nightmares. Who took it very gingerly between it's large teeth, lips curled back as far as possible to not touch it.

“Did you roll in the filth? There is mud imbedded in your ears and you hair is crusted with it.”

“I was gunna wash off! Not like I never bathed before! Give it back!”

“It’s more mud than fabric! Dunking yourself, fully dressed!, in a puddle is NOT how you get clean. Nor is scrubbing with a handful of snow! If this is how you usually ‘bathe’ I’m shocked you’re not covered in mold and lichen, or heavens know what else.”

It was not just Jack’s speech that needed some time and finagling to correct after all these years. No one to tell you that you stank or needed a hair brushing..

As it was, Jack was now being difficult on purpose (He did keep himself clean dammit! Not like he LIKED being covered in layers of dirt and dust!) and since Pitch was equally stubborn about getting the boy clean, this ended up with Jack bent over a tub of half-frozen water and being scrubbed by the Nightmare King himself.

It was noisy.

It was messy.

It was cold.

It was hilarious.

The room should not have been big enough for the crowd of Nightmares that had gathered to watch the entertainment, an Epic Battle of the Washing Up between boy and man but there they were. Utterly fascinated. One would even think they were taking bets on the victor..

“You got soap in my eyes!”

“I would not have if you had kept still!”

“I have icicles growing off my nose!”

“You control the ice, not I!”

“I’m WET!”

“YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO BE!”

After that it more or less dissolved into a flurry of chirping curses on Pitch’s parentage and preferences, while the Nightmare King threatened and scolded and half drowned the boy in getting him clean.

Which surprisingly did not lead to any fits of terror as Jack was putting most of his attention in wriggling free with the rest of his dignity. What little was left. Which wasn’t much. At all.

“If you are going to act like an infant, I will treat you like one, so be STILL!”

Now.. it would hardly decent if Pitch completely stripped the boy to wash him, oh no, the rest of Jack’s body was Jack’s responsibility. Pitch was just proving a point. But hey, HALF of Jack was squeaky clean and smelled pleasantly of mint! Refreshing!

The moment Jack was set free; he flung himself up in the air with the help of his far more trust worthy wind, and scolded Pitch from several yards up.

Pitch just glared up at him, hands on his hips, soggy robe clinging. He was not going to laugh at Jack’s hair, clean and white and sticking up all over. Like the spikes of a hedgehog. His skin was pink from the rough scrubbing, and he sounded like a fussy chicken upset over her corn taken away. A Hedge-Chicken? No laughing!

“When you are finished cleaning up, and I mean –clean-, you will put on fresh clothes and join me in the library for your lessons.”

As stately as he was able in a drenched, dragging robe Pitch left the bathing room. Jack would sulking join him later for his speech therapy, and Pitch would allow the boy to curl up against his side for reassurance that Pitch was not about to throw him out because of one little argument. Pitch would give the contrite boy a cup of cocoa, a hug, and not bring up that Jack's still-damp hair was leaving ice shards everywhere.

Pitch was looking forward to it. But first he needed to dry off.


End file.
